The machine contained Spirit Power Stones Su Hao had placed inside beforehand. The moment the button was pressed, it began operating, the sound of turning wheels ringing out.
Under everyone's astonished gaze, the strange-looking machine sucked in the cotton thread while several spools spun rapidly, arranging strand after strand of yarn in neat rows.
Su Hao then pointed to another button. "Third Uncle, press the yellow button."
Feng Xianglong did as he was told.
Another flywheel began to turn, driving a square structure swiftly up and down. Several shuttles darted back and forth within it, leaving only blurry afterimages. The cloth gradually took shape, growing wider and wider as it was woven.
Before long, a meter-long piece of cloth had been rolled onto a rod, and all the thread fed into the machine had been used up. Su Hao pressed the red button, and the loom slowly came to a stop.
Su Hao removed the rolled-up cloth, spread it open, and handed it to Feng Xianglong. "Third Uncle, what do you think of this cloth?"
Feng Xianglong accepted it in stunned silence, the two whiskers above his lip nearly curling up. The servants watching outside the gate were equally dumbstruck.
Was this really weaving, not immortal arts?
Wouldn't a piece of cloth like this take several days to weave? Even several days might not be enough! For one person to weave a bolt of cloth, it would take at least ten or twenty days, and that was considered fast.
Feng Xianglong carefully rubbed the cloth between his fingers, feeling its texture. For a moment, he was speechless.
Had he woven this piece of cloth with his own hands? Its quality was no worse than the finest cloth on the market! Yet texture was not the key—the key was the weaving